


C-Block Rules

by orphan_account



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Bite Me., F/F, I just love Older Carol, I needed to fill the fics void, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-26 06:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15657315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prison has lots of rules. Both official and unspoken. Carol Denning enforces hers as though they're truth.





	1. Rule One: You Don't speak Unless Spoken To

You're aware of eyes tracking you as you shuffle into the block with your fellow batch of fresh cookies. Some stares lasting longer than others. Some inmates not even registering your existence at all. All, you notice, mildly disinterested in new company. All used to the somewhat regular stream of new arrivals. Especially after the riot.

Taking in your surroundings you see exactly what max has to offer. Strip lighting boring down on everything. Not a window in sight (that shows daylight anyway) and cliques already formed. Before you can look further you're startled out of your quick area examination by your CO. “4867 - Watson. 42B”

You move towards your cell hugging your standard issue items. Two women sit on the bottom bunk deep in conversation stopping only when they realise your presence. They look at at you with no warmth and show their annoyance with their scowls directed at you. 

You earn a couple more wondering, annoyed stares before one stands up and barks out: “You gonna stand there gawking or dump your stuff and turn back around?”

She sneers at you from behind a huge pair of glasses, which should have been left in the '80s, making you feel instantly uncomfortable. And lucky for you you're a talker when things get uncomfortable.

“Hi I'm Watson I've been assigned to this cell.”

The standing woman steps towards you. She’s a towering entity and you hope that this isn't your cellmate. She goes from mildly annoyed to pissed in 2 seconds flat and you're aware of being pushed backwards into the doorframe you just walked through. Her skinny frame packing more force than you were bargaining for as you feel your head bouncing off the frame.

“Did I ask for your fuckin’ life story? Dump your shit and go.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you.” You stumble out as you hastily dump your stuff down and watch as the woman's face almost turns nuclear and her hands ball into fists. 

Not the best start.

\- - - 

Dinner. If you can even call it that. Much more like a bowl of slop with stale bread for decoration. 

You've snagged yourself a quiet corner. One with a view so you can people watch. You realise this colossal mistake when you catch the eye of your earlier attacker. Her gaze fixed on you. An unmistakable glint of anger lingering from your earlier altercation.

You look away, you decide you've lost your appetite and dump your slop. As you walk towards your new dwellings you don't notice you've gained a follower. It's only when you're inside your cell reaching down for your bag of stuff that you're being pulled backwards by your blue shirt landing directly into someone's chest. 

You feel something sharp dig into your throat as another hand snakes around your waist holding you still. Not that you'd dare move anyway. You're frozen in fear. 

The sharp object moves as the attackers hand yanks your head backwards and and rests their chin on the top of your head to indicate to hold still as the object finds its way back to your neck. You can just about make out a grey hairline and you realise exactly who's holding you.

“You've got a lot of learnin’ to do, cookie” a familiar voice drawls out. 

Your stomach drops as you realise for sure it's definitely your opponent from earlier. Her long greying hair tickles your ear and your neck and you hear your heart pounding in your ears. You feel a heartbeat racing just as fast pressed into your back and notice a tightening grip round your waist. You can smell sweets and wonder for a second how such a scary person can smell so nice.

“You're in C-Block now. I start things. I speak first. You need to learn the rules. You got that?” 

You nod and then stop as it makes the sharpness dig into your neck.

“I asked you a question, Watson.” She holds you impossibly closer bruising you to your ribcage. It's a sick juxtaposition. In any other circumstance it could be a loving embrace. Without the shiv of course.

You push these thoughts from your head as you struggle out a reply before you can be hurt anymore even if you are thinking how nice it is to feel the strength of someone holding you. “Ye.. Yes.”

“Good girl. Now make your bunk and get out of my sight.”

She lets go of you and you hastily grab your things making your bunk as fast as your shaking hands can go. You know she's watching you. You can feel the eyes burning into the back of your head. 

As you turn around you notice an amused expression. A self congratulatory smirk gracing her lips. Even with a half smile she's not ugly. Just withered with the slight hatred which seems to dance in the background of her eyes. You realise you're loitering and move out quickly before you can be manhandled anymore finding yourself somewhere to collect your thoughts.

Carol Denning is your cellmate. 

Fuck. If you thought things were bad before now they're really bad. You've spent your first day getting on the wrong side of your cellmate who just happens to run the joint. And now you're thinking how she's not bad looking.

Snap out of it cookie. You've got some lessons to learn.


	2. Rule two: Don't Ask Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my first chapter came to me at 6am on a Sunday morning and it seems as though early morning is my creative flow. Anyways, here's a continuation. Enjoy!

Your first week drags by. After your encounter with Carol you're scared and you make every effort to avoid her where you can. You jump down from your bunk every morning as soon as the lights come on bolting out of the door as fast as your legs can carry you. You spend your days sitting in the farthest away place from where Carol and her posse plays cards. 

You could swear there's always a pair of eyes on you. Whether it's Carol herself or one of her followers you know you're being watched. You know there's been an order put out to keep an eye on the bunkmate of one of the prison’s most notorious residents. Nowhere is sacred, your business is everyone's business.

You make friends with some other inmates who are keen to keep themselves out of trouble. They've been around a while and know who to stay away from. They've had their run ins and are more than happy to welcome you into their group.   
There's five of you in total. You all swap tales of how you ended up in max. You learn that it's mostly an array of murders with one young woman lashing out at an abusive boyfriend and creatively ending his time on earth breathing. It passes the time and you're glad of some acquaintances. 

“So, you know much about C-Block then?” Asks one of your group. An older woman, greyed hair. Definitely seen better days.

“Not much. Only not to mess with Carol. Though I'm not sure what exactly of these rules she's spoken about.”

The group collectively nods. The old woman, Jean you remember her name, carrying on. “Ah yes, that's pretty damn right. Carol will kill you and lose no sleep over it. And the rules? Shit. They're her rules. You don't ever know the true ones. She makes 'em up as she pleases.”

“How long has she been able to do that?” You ask.

“She became pretty much leader of this block a few years after she got here. Used to follow the old leader like a sheep but was running things for herself in the background. When her leader popped off she quickly made sure she was on top. Her sister Barb had pretty much the same over in D. To this day we ain’t sure if they both rose to the top by picking off their competitors or they really did die naturally.”

You laugh nervously and stop when your eye catches Carol Denning. She's looking right at you. A thoughtful yet scary look. You look away and ask one more question whilst you can.

“What happened to her old cellmate?”

“Cellmates plural, cookie. They never last. They either end up in medical or a body bag. I reckon you've got about 6 months tops.”

Your stomach drops and you stand up. You can feel your throat tightening and you decide you've had enough of the conversation. “Right well, thanks. I've got somewhere to be.”

\--

“In a hurry for breakfast?” A voice drawls out. 

You turn around and see your cellmate sitting with her legs up on her bed staring at you slightly amused. You had jumped down from your bunk as a usual and were looking for a quick escape.

“I - no” you falter. There's no use making up an excuse, Carol's eyes are cutting through any bullshit you can panic up.

“Someone out there you're hoping to see?”

You shake your head not daring to utter a sound.

“You see,” she continues, “I know that you've been poking around, asking about things.”

Shit.

“I know that you've been speaking about things which don't concern you.” Carol rises slowly from her bunk walking up to you in two strides, staring you down. "You think that I don't know all the old ones in this block?"

Double shit. Damn Jean! 

“I don't take kindly to nosey people. You think you'd have more care as you have to come home to me every night” Carol mocked as she gave you two sharp taps on your cheek, smirking down at you.

You wince at the contact and audibly gulp. You dare to make eye contact and are met with steely piercing, cold eyes. 

“Honestly Carol I'm just interested in history-” you begin. The rest of your sentence is cut off by a hand grabbing your blue scrub by the neck pulling you forward. You can feel her breathe on your face and smell the damn lollipops she's always sucking on.

Your aware of being walked backwards thudding into the wall with the grip maintained on your shirt and her arm rising to lie across your throat. Her muscle tenses on you, applying pressure making it difficult to breathe. Her other hand moves to caress the cheek she's just slapped but in one move she harshly cups it in a way you're sure will leave bruises in the shape of her fingers.

“If you wanna know shit, you ask me. Don't go behind my back. Do you know what happens to people who get on the wrong side of me?” You try to speak but your throat is constricted under her arm.

“Of course you do,” she sneers, “you have been asking after all.” 

You attempt to move to protest but Carol pushes her body into yours pinning you to the wall. You feel the familiar racing heartbeat which was so prominent the last time she was this close to you. Her eyes are piercing into yours and the lines on her face are etched in a satisfied smirk.

She removes her arm from your throat keeping a grip on your top and you breathe in relief. At the same time she loosens her grip on your cheek and supports herself on the wall, her gaze never leaving yours. 

“Rule number two: don't ask questions, especially about me.” 

You nod and try to avert your gaze from her face but you can't bring yourself to look at anything else. It's just as striking as when she was behind you threatening to shiv you. There's a softness underneath her harsh looks. You curse yourself for your thoughts and in your distraction miss a question aimed at you.

A sharp tug to your chin pulling your face up brings you out of your inner thoughts and you're instantly alert.

“I said, have I made myself clear?” 

You nod and almost whisper out your answer. “Yes.”

Her fingers dig deeper into your chin. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Carol.”

The grip is loosened and a smile plays on her face. “Good girl.”

She removes her hand and you move your jaw slightly to check for pain and movement. Carol looks on in fascination. Most people would probably have legged it out but you stood there checking your mobility in your face. She's still pinning you to the wall but she's relaxed herself slightly so you're not so squashed. You can still feel her heartbeat and you dare to look at her again. 

You know you're playing with fire. You know you're probably breaking a rule but you can't help it.

“Best get to breakfast or all the warm shit’ll be gone, cookie.” She moves away slowly.

You sidestep away from her and just before you turn she catches your arm. It all happens quickly and afterwards you're not sure if you dreamt it. She kisses your cheek and whispers roughly in your ear: “See you when you get home.”

As you walk from the cell you're replaying the moment. It was such a sarcastic remark but the physical contact was near on delicate. You touch your cheek and wince as you realise it's the one that was gripped. She’d kissed her handywork. A signature.


	3. Rule three: You Don't Touch What Isn't Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea of the technical terms of poker. All I know is how to play so bear with me with this chapter.

C-Block had been on lockdown for the past 48 hours. You had nothing but your ceiling and the sound of Carol shuffling cards for company for the past few hours and it's safe to say you're going stir crazy. 

Some crazy bitch from D-Block managed to sneak in and shiv one of Denning’s followers. For her safety, Carol had been locked away almost immediately. A part of her deal with the guards. As her bunkmate you had no choice in the matter and found yourself bundled in. 

Sharing a cell with Carol was not an easy task. After her second attack for talking to a few old timers you were even more on edge. Although you made less of a noticeable effort to leg it out of her sight as soon as doors opened you were, it's safe to say, most definitely making yourself scarce.

You re-read the page in your book for perhaps the fifth time. Even your favourite authors were becoming a bore. How many times can anyone read a book and not find it boring and predictable? You sigh and snap your book closed. Carol’s playing with cards beneath you - probably trying to perfect her already perfect bridge skills. You decide to be brave and interact with your cellmate. What’s the worst that could happen?

Her gaze is directed at the cards in front of her and you dare to watch her, leaning up against the end of the bed.

“See something you like, loser?” Came her drawl without looking up at you. 

You ignore her tone. “What’cha playing?” 

She looks up, raising her eyebrows at you. Your heartbeat quickens and you find yourself wanting to run but being equally glued to the spot. You’d initiated contact you had to carry on. Carol puts her cards down and leans back into her pillows folding her arms.

“I was playing Patience. You ever heard of that, kid?”

You tilt your head in thought and she studies you. You didn’t expect an honest, no shit answer and you’re masking your surprise. Perhaps you were being scared for nothing.

“Oh, you mean Solitaire? I used to play that shit all the time on our computer when I was a kid. The good old days before the internet.”

There’s a smirk on her features as she shakes her head. You take her silence as a good thing and sit on the edge of her bed. Her smirk disappears and she looks at you with disapproval. Still, no verbal response. You reach for a card and pick it up. It’s not until then you realise your mistake.

A hand darts to yours knocking the card away. Long fingers curl around yours and squeeze. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

She squeezes so hard you can almost feel your bones crunching together. “So- sorry. I just…”

You wince and she lets go of you. “I’m just so fucking bored,” you continue. You wriggle your hand and she watches your fingers. Still you sit on her bed. You make a move to stand up. She reaches for your hand again and you gasp at the contact. 

“I ain’t apologising but I get your point. Shittin’ horrible being locked away all day. Let alone for two. You know how to play anything at all?” 

You wriggle your hand slightly and she releases her grip. “I can play poker.”

Carol raises her eyebrow at you, an amused smirk dancing on her features. 

“Ok cookie. I’ll give you one damn chance to redeem yourself for interrupting me.”

It’s your turn to cross your arms and smirk. “What are the odds?”

Carol takes up her cards and starts to shuffle. You watch as her fingers expertly arrange the cards. She doesn’t look as she starts speaking again. “If you win, which I seriously doubt, I’ll be nicer to you. If I win, well fuck it, you’ll find out.”

\--

You play poker for the best part of a couple of hours. At least you think you do. Without a watch or phone it gets pretty hard to tell the time. 

Carol is good at poker. Her face expressionless throughout and really you don't expect any less. Her time inside allows her to master anything she wants. 

You watch her and use the excuse of looking for bluffing signs to study her. Over your past occasions of being dangerously close she's intrigued you. You know underneath her steely exterior there's probably a soft side but so far you've yet to experience it. Apart from that kiss she left on your cheek. Even though it was an act of dominance, a form of ownership.

You're snapped out of your thoughts but the woman you're daydreaming about. “Are you gonna make your play or what?”

You can't help but smirk. Two Kings in hand. The flop revealing a further two. “I think Carol, I'm gonna go all in.”

You place a few lollipop sticks in the middle of the bed. They had been the only resources you could find but they were good enough for the job.

Carol calls and reveals the next three cards. You grin and reveal yours. “Four of a kind.”

She looks at you, a danger dancing in her eyes. She suddenly snaps her cards over. You falter. “High card, four of a kind.” 

You stare at the Aces and back at her. She's amused and she's reaching for the cards whilst you gawk. “Shit.”

“You're too readable. That shit eating grin gave you away.”

She tosses the cards on the ledge beside her. When she turns back to you there is no hint of a smirk. A cold, hard stare graces her face. You make to move but she lurches forward and grabs the scruff of your shirt. 

“Not so fast cookie. My victory,” she drawls.

You await a hand to the throat or your face and feel yourself tense up.

“Don't you know the house always wins?” She sneers. “And you're in my fuckin’ house.”

Your earlier braveness falls away and you cannot speak. Carol is dragging you closer and you move to avoid any resistance. Her familiar smirk is back and you find yourself nose to nose. Her glasses millimetres away from your cheeks. “So, Watson, you're my prize.”

Your eyes find hers and you stare. Before you think, you speak. “I fail to see how I'm a prize.”

Her hand wraps itself around your throat but almost tenderly. No harsh grip, just holding you in place. You know that she can feel your slight tremble. 

“Another rule for you. You don't touch what isn't yours.” Carol pulls you impossibly closer and you swear her lips graze yours with her next words. “But you're mine alright.”

She winks at you and then presses her lips to yours, her hand still clasping your throat. It's not tender and it's certainly not meant to be nice but in her roughness you relish the feel of her against you. 

Carol pulls away and drops her hand. You stare at her. She's smirking right back at you enjoying playing with you. Still within your personal space. You're stunned and can't quite make any words come out. 

You open your mouth to say something and her long fingers bring themselves to your face quieting you. 

“You breathe a word of anything that happened today and next time it won't be my hand around your throat, you got that?”

You nod. Carol isn't satisfied. “I said, you got that?”

She moves her fingers from your mouth and holds onto your chin. “Yes, Carol.” 

“Good girl. Now get off my bunk.”

You clamber off and find your way back up to your own. You hear her grab the cards off the ledge and chuckle to herself. You run your fingers over your lips in disbelief.

Another mark of ownership. A claim on her prize.


	4. Rule Four: Cleanliness Is Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to step it up a knotch. Enjoy ;)

Thankfully lockdown did only last two days. D Block, you heard, had to endure a full week for their actions. This greatly amused Carol who would often throw comments at you when you were alone in your cell about how precious Barbie would be going insane having to look at the same four walls whilst knowing Carol was roaming free. 

That's one of the main things that did change since your time spent together: Carol spoke to you. Sure, it was generally comments and not conversation starters but it was comforting to not always be in such suspended silence. 

It was some sort of mutual respect. She knew you were too scared to say anything about anything that went on and she respected that. It pleased her. She ruled by fear. Her power was no illusion and everybody knew it.

You kept rerunning the events in your head. Every time she’d shown you any attention it got slightly more intense. She never lost control though. Carol knew what she wanted and she never relinquished control. 

You’re rattled out of your thoughts by the guards doings the rounds banging on the cell doors. 

“Shower time, ladies. Remember a clean body is a clean mind.” The ginger guard stated. Probably from one of those self help books you could always see sticking out of her trouser pocket.

—

Having a shower was much different from the outside. There were eyes everywhere. The products on offer were cheap as chips and although made you smell nice it left a lot to be desired an hour after being clean. Razors were exceptionally hard to come by, especially with the stupid block wars. They were precious weapons rather than a much appreciated beauty aid. What you’d do for you ten minutes with one. 

You shuffled along with the rest of the queue. You could feel the humidity of the room as you got closer. Finally you found yourself inside. You were about to start peeling off your clothes when a voice in your ear startled you. “Move to the end, now.”

You sighed and picked your stuff up. Carol could find you anywhere. Again you drop your things and start undressing. You make your way into the bay and under the faucet of lukewarm water. Closing your eyes you enjoy the sensation of the water running over your body. 

Your abruptly brought back down to Earth when you’re aware of a body behind yours. “Don’t make a sound, cookie.” 

As your eyes fly open you’re aware of Carol’s warmth behind you and you almost faint when one of her arms snakes around your waist to hold you and the other holds a razor between her fingers. You audibly gasp.

You look around and see that you’re the only ones left in the shower block. As you wonder how this could be you remember that the guards are under her thumb. Your stomach drops. If Carol didn’t want you around anymore this was the perfect opportunity, and with the weapon of choice you were just dreaming about. You’re shaken from your thoughts again by her drawl in your ear.

“A very important rule of mine now - cleanliness is key. Especially for someone who shares a cell with me.” 

She steps back slightly and tells you to wash. You do as you’re told and can feel her eyes burning into the back for your body. You feel like prey being stalked before being pounced upon. When you’d finished washing your hair, Carol did just that. 

Your back is slammed into Carol’s front and it’s in that moment that you realise she is in fact as vulnerable as you feel. You feel your back on her bare flesh. Her left arm again holding you in place around your waist. “Now, let's get you really clean. If you’re good perhaps I’ll reward you.”

Your legs shake slightly in anticipation and you hear and feel her chuckle in your ear as she feels it too. “Arm up,” she orders. She moves your arm to rest around the back of her neck and you stand still. With more gentleness than you expect she runs the razor down your armpit until she’s satisfied then removes your arm from around her neck.

She doesn’t have to ask for your other arm as you offer it to her. “Good girl, you catch on quick.” 

As she repeats her actions, you apply pressure to her neck with your fingers and you’re sure you hear her breath hitch in your ear. She drops your arm back down to your side and draws you impossibly closer to her. Her voice again rings in your ears. 

“Starting to feel human? There nothing better than a good beauty session is there, Watson?”

You shake your head. 

“I didn’t catch what you said there, speak up.” She started with her usual gruffness.

“N- no Carol. I mean yes, I” she cuts you off and her hand wielding the razor drags down your thigh, her knuckles sending shockwaves throughout your body. 

She suddenly, not at all gently, parts your legs. Her knuckles continuing their torturous touch inside your thighs with the handle of the blade following them. “What are we gonna do about these legs of yours, hmm?”

You can’t speak and find yourself throwing your head into her shoulder. Carol knows exactly what she’s doing and her earlier words about you being hers are brought back into your mind. You see a smirk on her face as she turns to you resting on her shoulder. 

“Stand up straight.” You move off her shoulder and obey. 

The hand around your waist slackens but stays in place. Carol then kneels beside you and looks up at you. You can feel her eyes raking over your body. A hungriness dancing in her features. She smirks up at you and winks before turning her attention to your leg. 

Again she gently glides the razor up, extracting all hair. This time though, when finished, she puts the razor between her teeth and runs her hand up your leg admiring her handiwork. Your hand finds her wrist wrapped around your waist and you grip it as you whimper at her touch. 

Carol stands up and faces you. You don’t have time to stare at her naked form in front of you as you’re being pressed against the wall. Face to face, breast to breast. Her hands are either side of your head, razor still safely in her grasp. She studies your face and her eyes drop to your lips. 

She moves impossibly closer, her lips ghosting yours as she speaks. “You’re being good, perhaps you can have part of your reward now.”

Another whimper escapes from you but it’s caught in a kiss. It’s different to any previous experience. It’s still rough, it’s Carol. But this time, you’re being kissed with pure desire. Her mouth opens yours and you reply with vigour, daring to place your hand on her neck. Her tongue finds yours and battles for dominance. Then as suddenly as it’s started, she stops. 

“Next leg, cookie.” She almost slides down your body, her eyes on yours. Her hand once again finding its way to rest on your waist and she repeats her sensual shave.

This time you're braver and dare to tangle your fingers in her hair. After checking her handiwork, Carol tosses the razor away and moves back up. Running her hand up your body, deliberately over your pubic hair. Her long fingers taking their time to run through it. 

She presses herself against you again and you look at her partly in disbelief and very much in shock at what's just unfolded. 

“I like a bush. That's the only hair I allow. Got that?” She smirks.

You nod. 

“You gonna show any gratitude? I ain't one to do my own dirty work.” Stated Carol, mildly annoyed.

“Ye- yes, thanks.”

A hand curls around your throat. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Carol. Thank you.” You gasp out.

“Good girl.” Came her familiar drawl. 

Carol removes her hand from your throat and kisses you again. 

“Remember, not a word to anyone about anything or you’ll have to figure out the rest of the rules by yourself. Now scram, I gotta shower too!”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback much appreciated. I wanted to fill this fic section up and give as much love to Carol Denning as possible. I know we're all crushing on her!
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr for suggestions or for a new friend: tab-i-laugh.


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